


Catharsis

by Xycuro



Series: To Live For [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, they're both disasters, two dumbasses not exactly knowing how to express feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xycuro/pseuds/Xycuro
Summary: He didn't know exactly what was going on, but Frank knew that this was off even for the both of them.Might as well go for it anyway.





	1. Breaking the Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is really. It started off as a short prompt until it turned into a full fic at 5am soon revised once I got more sleep haha.

  
  
  
It was always the same between the two of them.

 

Night after night, playing the same game over and over again.

 

Whether on the rooftops or down in the alleyways, Daredevil was always one step ahead of him.

 

It should've been simple.

 

Frank didn't know exactly when it began, but all he knew was that it shouldn't have gone so far into the unknown territory they're both crossing now.

 

It started off as usual: nights of bringing death to those who deserve it. The Punisher would stalk the scum that deserved a bullet to their heads, and as usual, Daredevil would burst through his operation to stop him. It was protocol; just a regular routine for the two of them.

 

That made _sense_ to Frank. He had a job to do, and so did Red. They both followed their way to the key and nothing stopped them from doing so other than each other.

 

Well, mostly Red stopping Frank in his routine.

 

 

Somewhere down the line, something changed. Frank didn't know exactly what, until it eventually stopped becoming subtle.

 

Crime would spread like a wildfire that couldn't be taken out so easily. At one point, The Punisher had to follow Daredevil's way in stopping bastards from spreading the fire. Other nights, Daredevil wouldn't burden himself in trying to stop The Punisher, letting him carry out on the worst of the worst. Human traffickers, murderers, pedophiles, they all had their death sentences signed by The Punisher. He was allowed to be judge, jury, and executioner all at once without The Devil of Hell's Kitchen interrupting him to preach to a deaf choir of firm justice and law.

 

At first it was rewarding.

 

The Punisher wasn't held back by Red. He was allowed to finish the job in the night after each one of them fell. That's what he wanted. Nights where there was one less scumbag off the streets ruining lives for the future.

 

Then it became confusing.

 

 

Those sprees of being an executioner didn't last very long once Daredevil came back, throwing his batons to knock the weapon out of Frank's hand.

 

"No killing, remember?"

 

Frank could've sworn he saw a _smile_ spread across the vigilante's face.

 

"What the hell are you doing here, Red?"

 

Daredevil paced around him, tilting his head slightly. "Was doing recon earlier...but I guess I could spend the night helping you out."

 

What the fuck.

 

"Why?"

 

"Why not? It'd be easier for me."

 

No...

 

That didn't cut it for an answer.

 

"Why the hell would you help me, Red? You and I don't exactly work together so well." 

A sigh escaped the vigilante.

"Then maybe we can change that then."

 

Maybe?

It still didn't answer his question.

And Frank could only follow the Devil into the darkness, following his methods, his rules.

 

The man he was after earlier ended up at the precinct rather than six feet under.

 

Fine.

He'll let that slide for now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Except, for what Frank didn't count on was a repeating pattern.

 

Daredevil kept showing his half hidden mug again, this time being at ease. Arguing less with Frank, trying to talk to him as if it were just another Tuesday afternoon and they were out for coffee. Except they _weren't_ out for brunch, they were infiltrating a warehouse near the docks, punching and kicking through every asshole there that stood in their way.

 

When the job was done, Red always gave him a smug smile, showing some teeth while spitting out blood.

 

"Guess I'll see you around, Frank."

 

A pat against the ex-marine's shoulder and Daredevil disappeared again, leaving The Punisher confused and alone.

 

This happened too often.

Way too often.

 

The odd behavior that came off of Red puzzled Frank each time their patrols ended off with little argument and more quips. Fuck, Frank was starting to realize that he's been referring to these meetups as _their_ patrols. _Their_ team-ups.

 

The Punisher doesn't do team-ups. He _shouldn't_ be. Especially not with Daredevil of all people. And didn't Daredevil usually work alone? How did it get like this? This far?

How did _they_ allowed it to get this far?

 

 

Within each meetup, Frank got annoyed. Annoyed when Daredevil would barge in whenever the hell he wanted just to stop Frank from ending some bastard's life. Irritated when the vigilante would casually play off Frank's anger as if it was something feeble. Infuriated when Red flashes that stupid smirk that Frank absolutely did _not_ find attractive whatsoever. _Especially_ whenever Daredevil picked his head up from a fight and grinned viciously while his teeth stained red.

 

Frank was absolutely _not_ turned on by that.

 

* * *

 

Frank hated himself every time he fell for Red's game.

 

He ignored the other vigilante when he reminded him not to kill. So when the unlucky bastard he was dealing with died by his hands, Frank couldn't help but to feel pride in himself when he finally saw a frown on Daredevil's face.

 

"And here I thought we were doing so well cooperating with each other," Red responded. Despite the hinted disappointment in his tone, it wasn't enough to satisfy The Punisher.

 

"This has nothing to do with _you_ ," Frank reminded him curtly. "I do shit my way and that's how it's always been. Too many of them are running around thinking they run this town."

 

"More bodies piling up because of you," Red chided. God, he didn't even sound as upset as Frank was hoping he would be. Asshole sounded like a tired parent having to lightly scold their kid for the fifth time.

 

"At least it's working. Keeping some peace for the innocent."

 

"Don't start with that again, Frank," Red scolds back. There it is. That's what he's been missing. He can _hear_ it. Red's holding back some rage.

 

"Or else what? Wanna do something about it?"

 

 

He certainly didn't get an answer once the Devil started laughing in a casual manner. He certainly didn't provoke the anger out of him, not when the lax nature came back again. As if he wasn't being threatened by the ex-marine.

 

That wasn't _right_.

Frank swore the other man was miffed merely a few seconds ago and now he's throwing it off like nothing?

 

"What? Do you _want_ me to do something about it?"

 

_What the fuck is Red doing?_

 

The ringing of _why_ kept hammering at the back of Frank's skull ever since they had their little team-ups. Damn it, he's still stuck on calling them team-ups huh.

 

"What game are you playing at, Red? Do you _like_ pissing me off? Is that it?"

"Hmm, when you put it like that, I gotta admit, it _is_ kind of fun."

 

So it _is_ just a game to him then.

 

 

"Alright, fine, if this is some sort of 'who pisses off who more' contest, don't mind me joining," Frank sneered out.

 

Daredevil chuckled.

There it was again.

That damn smile.

 

"All I'm hearing from you is that I'm winning this little contest."

 

Frank couldn't help but smirk back.

"What can I say? You're a damn natural at it."

 

Fuck, he sounded like he was flirting.

Red immediately perked up when the ex-marine said that, and oh, did Frank hate himself for secretly enjoying seeing those lips turn up even more from it.

 

"I'll take that as a compliment."

 

It wasn't supposed to be, but too late for that now.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, it broke out.

 

The Punisher had enough with the Devil's bullshit. Too many cruel and wicked people ran amok, ignoring the impending consequences to their actions for too long. Frank had to change that. They need to pay, and The Punisher was useless if he kept following the Devil's rules. There were times when they ended up working together again even after the two of them had argued earlier. Thankfully, there were moments where Red snapped out of this...this _charade_ he was performing and went back to good ol' altar boy. Rambling about right and wrong, growling at Frank for ignoring his philosophy while his fists ached for a fight.

 

 

"It didn't have to be this way, Frank."

 

"Yeah? At least they ain't innocent. They wouldn't stop unless I did something about it."

 

 

Daredevil's mouth became a fine, thin line when he began to stalk towards him.

What drove him to slowly approach the other man, Frank didn't know.

All he knows is that he wanted answers. A word. _Something_ , out of Red.

 

"It pisses you off, doesn't it?" Shit, now he's the one taunting. "How your way doesn't work for shit while I'm actually doing something about it."

 

No more teasing. No more casual nature.

Shoulders were tensing up, oh, Frank _missed_ that. The way Red always wanted a fight.

 

 

And a fight he will always get.

 

 

The Punisher didn't fail to deliver. He knew that their little interlude of putting differences aside wasn't going to last. He knew that eventually, Red was going to snap and Frank was going to _enjoy_ watching him try to justify his wrongdoings. The smile disappeared. The clear anger that radiated off the other vigilante. He was ready to curl his lips to bare teeth and lash out.

 

This was something Frank lived for.

 

Something so very _familiar_.

 

 

Fists broke out eventually, wrestling each other against the brick walls of the outskirts. This was right in their alley, going against each other when the wave of dancing around the fog finally breaks.

 

Frank pins the vigilante against the wall, holding him down while the other man struggled. If that mask had eye holes, the ex-marine would've _loved_ to see the bleeding fury in Red's eyes. Yeah, that's what he wanted to see. The old Red getting pissed at him for _everything_.

 

But then Daredevil's shoulders suddenly sagged right there, loosening up from the tension. He was perking his head up, breathing heavily as his shoulder blades dug into the wall.

 

"This your way of proving to me your methods work better than mine?"

 

From that tone came some sort of endearment. The fire was dying down slowly, and now Daredevil wasn't so tense anymore.

 

No...no no, not this shit again.

 

Right on cue, the corner of Red's lips twitched up again.

 

"What the _hell_ do you want, Red?"

 

"Hmm?" He tilted his head. Son of a bitch is _messing_ with him again. "Well, now that you asked, wouldn't mind _not_ being pinned to the wall by the likes of you, _again_."

 

Again?

...

Oh.

 _Right_.

 

“That’s not all you want though, is it?” Frank pressed again, glaring at the other man while he refused to struggle. “Why are you doing this shit, Red?”  
  
“Doing what exactly, Frank?”  
  
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, quit playing this fucking game with me.”  
  
“Is that what you think this is? A game?”  
  
“The ‘ _who gets to piss off who first_ ’ contest wasn’t obvious enough?” Frank hated the way Red was acting so calm right now. He wanted him to go back to being upset a few minutes earlier. Bring out the fists again and beat each other to a pulp. That’s what they’re good at, right?  
  
Right?

  
Another laugh broke out and Frank couldn’t help but to enjoy the sound of it.  
  
“You got a great sense of humor, Frank,” Red grinned again. Fucker. “Just another aspect of you that I enjoy witnessing.”

  
_What the fuck is even going on anymore._

 

Frank didn’t let go of his grip, still confused, still furious, and still analyzing on what’s happening. Eventually, his shoulders began to sag too, and the fire that burned his insides smoldered down, leaving him with just the empty pit of confusion and exhaustion. Red softly pushed him away, lowering his hands from their tight grip of the black fabrics of his outfit.  

He didn’t hear what Red whispered to him before disappearing off into the darkness again.  
  
He didn’t find himself to care at that point.

 

* * *

 

 

It happened again.

 

This game…this _dance_ they always have.

 

Red coming in whenever he wants, and Frank arguing back to try and rile him up a bit, only to get nothing in return. Just a smile. It’s always a smile. Or a compliment. Red’s starting to get real comfortable in complimenting The Punisher and as much as Frank would love to get irritated by it, he found himself getting tired instead. Sure, Red. Keep going, it doesn’t matter. Frank didn’t care for the compliments.  
  
At one point, he tried turning it around, teasing back, trying to see if the Devil himself would get flustered in the process. Turns out, it would only stroke his ego a little. Red would preen slightly whenever Frank gave a light comment. It was like a boost of confidence from an unlikely source. He wasn’t one for complimenting, so of course, Red would soak in the opportunity every single time.

  
It was eventually going over the border of flirting.

  
“Don’t get all sweet on me now, Frank, it’ll ruin your reputation.”  
  
  
God damn altar boy really trying to play it like that then?  
  
Fine.  
  
  
It was _fine_ for the first few times. It was _alright_ when they kept going in their patrols, taking out what they can, bring hell to those that deserved it and end up at either one of their place’s to patch each other up from wounds that needed attention. Whatever, right?  
  
  
Wrong.  
  
Frank didn’t account for the flirting to turn into something more…meaningful. Something outside of the vigilante life and eventually bleeding through the daylight. He thought it would’ve died down once the two of them realized they’ll be playing nurse on each other and stitch up open bullet wounds. Moments like that would be taken seriously, but once that was done, it was back to teasing the living shit out of each other. However, the night would end it there, and they would both go their separate ways.

They both had jobs to uphold, both had busy work schedules to follow through before the sun would set. Frank didn’t account for visiting Red after work hours. Information, he constantly reminded himself. Red had info on plenty of scum on the streets, so it shouldn’t be too unorthodox for Pete Castiglione to go visit Matthew Murdock after a court case. It really shouldn’t. And it shouldn’t have turned into something so…casual. Calming. Regular. Almost domestic.  

He was starting to enjoy those breaks between them.

  
If Frank went back in time and told his past self during his beginning Punisher days that he was eventually going to have lunch breaks with that horn-head bastard, he knows past Castle would’ve clocked him in the jaw by now.

 

 

Frank wanted to know where exactly they were going with this.

  
There were days where they would behave like regular people. Then there were the nights that came after where that was stripped away and Red didn’t hesitate in getting under Frank’s skin.  
  
However, those were the nights Frank _lived_ for.  
  
When it was just the two of them, not at each other’s throats but more so leveling with each other. One taunt after the other. A flirtatious snide here and there. Frank was starting to enjoy it little by little. He couldn’t help but to do so, not when Red knew how to rile him up in a good way.  
  
They were on a rooftop again as per usual, where the streets had been wiped through by their patrols and they ended it with one last chase. Frank slowly approached him, dropping his weapons to the side while the man across from him tilted his head. He knows his heavy footsteps came up to his radar, and the sounds from below the building seemed to fade out so quickly.  
  
For the both of them.

 

It was just them.

 

Red had taken off the mask earlier, holding it in his hand, just so that Frank can glare at his empty gaze. Despite that, the vigilante glared back anyway, but he didn’t waver from smiling.

  
  
“How long do you wanna keep doing this, Red?”  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Red whistled lightly, the mask now daggling from his grasp while he tried to face him.  
“And here I thought we were on the same page.”  
  
“We are. I just want to hear you admit it.”  
  
“Admit what?”  
  
“God damn it- _this_ , this thing, we’re doing,” Frank hissed, still getting closer to him. “Somedays it’s on and off with you and I want to know what we’re doing exactly.”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Red teased.  
  
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”  
  
“What else is new?” Again, grinning as if he’s got the upper hand.

Frank grunted. “You itching for a fight again? Is that it? We still trying to piss each other off?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

 

"Oh yeah? Well tough shit cause that’s what it’s doing to me. You wanna dance or what, Red?"

 

Red smiled in a taunting fashion.

"That depends; do you mean dance as in what we always do? Fighting in head locks or actually dancing for once?"

 

That earned a scoff from the ex-marine.

 

"What? You're serious right now?"

 

"It's a genuine question, Frank," the other man sighs softly.

 

Frank gets closer, examining the other man carefully. "You're giving me mixed signals here; sometimes I don't even know what the hell you want."

 

"Really?" Red pressed.

 

"Yeah, really. Except, that's your game, huh?" Frank then laughed, still keeping his glare focused at the vigilante. “Messin’ with my head and shit, keeping me at my feet.”

 

It was Red's turn to laugh.  
  
“You still think this is a game?”  
  
  
Now they were closing the gap between them.  
Frank didn’t know what exactly to do about it other than to keep staring at Red.  
His gaze was slightly off as usual, but that didn’t change anything. The other man _knew_ the ex-marine was looking right at him. He _knew_ how much they’ve gotten in each other’s heads and tease through to break each other’s walls. To think that ages ago they would be in constant headlocks where they did nothing but unsheathe their claws to fight with fists and teeth like rabid animals. Now it was nothing but endearments, off-handed comments, joking remarks, and gentle tones that came in such an unexpected way that they never had the chance to truly acknowledge it. They were both a mess.  
  
Maybe that was how this whole thing started then.

  
Maybe.

  
  
“Then why?” Frank found himself asking.  
  
  
Red frowned slightly. “Why what?”  
  
  
“Why all of this? You and I never got along so well before so why the sudden change?”  
  
The ex-marine didn’t realize after asking that the vigilante had one hand over his chest and the other on his hip. Red was always quiet…and sneaky when it comes to that. In response, he settled his own hands around Red’s waist, just to make it less awkward.  
  
  
“Exactly, _before_ ; that was all in the past, Frank.”  
  
  
“And wouldn’t that change now? Come on, Red, give me a clear answer here: why all of this? Why….why _me_?”  
  
That was it, really.  
Frank just wanted to know why out of everyone in New York, the Devil went after him. Not his buddy Nelson that he knew for years that can hold so much trust and bares through hell with him. Not Karen, who was sweet as she was pretty, and headstrong within any situation. Just as stubborn as the two of them as well. No, it had to be _him_. The big bad Punisher. The asshole that ran around killing other assholes for the sake of doing something to stop the chaos that is Hell’s Kitchen.  
  
The ex-marine finally saw conflict within Red.  
Red looked…confused. For once, the other vigilante was conflicted with what was happening and not the other way around. Frank greedily absorbed this moment for himself, because no one, _no one,_  saw Red’s proud stature break down so easily with just that simple question. He was sharp in court, arrogant and bold both when the sun was up and when it was starting to set. Now here he was, feeling lost and pondering over everything that’s happened between the two of them.  
  
Frank didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

  
“You know…at first I didn’t really know,” Red began, struggling to find the words to say and still feeling out of place. “Doesn’t make sense with our history, I know, but…I don’t know. You’re not like _them_ , ruining lives for personal gain, revenge, or just for the hell of it. The ones you loved were taken from you. You’re angry at everything, and you want to do something about it and I guess from a lot of personal thinking…you’re almost like me. You did say I was one bad day away from becoming you, but something about being _around_ you, working together, kept me grounded. And I came to realize that I didn’t want to fight you anymore. What was the point in that?”

 

There was a quick pause that came through. For a split second, Frank didn’t hear the bustling streets from down below. He broke the silence briefly.  
  
“That’s why you’ve been acting like this around me recently? Kinda miss the harsh words and bare knuckles, Red.”

“Yes, you _definitely_ miss me criticizing your methods physically, huh. Wouldn’t peg you as a masochist, Frank,” he rolled his eyes, sarcasm right at the tip of his tongue. When Frank didn’t respond, he kept going.  
“I know, it’s strange, but it _worked_ ; I thought to myself: why not keep it going? The teasing wasn’t planned but I eventually realized I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. It was fun, I will admit, hearing you get ticked off by even the slightest hint of a compliment from me,” Red chuckled again. Of course he would enjoy that. “Guess I’m just terrible at giving out hints, huh?”  
  
Yeah.  
  
He was.  
  
However, so was Frank, and he couldn’t really blame Red when the other end was just as bad as him with trying to get their shit together. That would make him a hypocrite.

 

“We’re both fucking awful,” Frank found himself saying.

In some odd miracle, that broke Red from his confused trance, snapping him back to the sly bastard from before. The one that knew where everything was going the minute he set foot on the rooftop. The smile came back, and Frank didn’t hate himself for admitting that he’s been enjoying that smile more and more. Only this time, it came off softer. Welcoming.  
  
“Yeah, I guess we are,” Matt agreed.  
  
  
Before Matt could say anything else, Frank decided to do what he’s been wanting to do for the past few weeks or so and lean forward to catch his lips. He didn’t want the other man to speak for now. Thankfully, Matt got the message, pressing his lips against his while he tightened his grip around his hip. Good.  
  
After they broke the kiss, the ex-marine had his hand running over the other man's stubble.

 

"Guess I win this round."

 

The Devil scoffed, but his face betrayed him, still showing a smile.

 

"I let you win."

 

 

Frank pulled him closer, his tone still laced with triumph.

 

"Sure you did."

 


	2. Hours of Clarity

  
  
  
  
It wasn’t as difficult as Frank thought it would be.  
  
  
He never saw any of this coming.  
  
  
Not even after the kiss.  
  
  
  
However, Matt proved him wrong. Hell, he proved _himself_ wrong as well.  
  
  
There were nights where he followed Red back to his apartment, going through injuries again and making sure the idiot wasn’t overextending himself. A small chide here and there of constant insisting from Matt that _no_ , he wasn’t skipping meals and _of course_ he’s getting sleep. As much as Matt tried to convince him that he was fine, Frank always had a way to sniff out his bullshit. Oh the irony.  
  
When it became clear that they were going to do this more often, Frank was hesitant at first. He didn’t expect a plan after everything he’s been through. Didn’t expect a certain asshole wearing all black (he never admitted it out loud, but Frank missed the red suit) to waltz right back in no problem and turn everything around.  
  
Days went through where they had each other again.  
  
  
Frank found himself sitting at the apartment, reading through books and getting back into the chapter he left off as if he didn’t just gut a human smuggler earlier. It was bitterly domestic for the time being, especially when he had ordered take out before arriving.  
  
Matt came clear into view after the settling of keys went quiet. The lawyer went over to the kitchen, taking note of the food there.  
  
“You brought this?”  
  
“Course I did. Someone’s gotta feed you.”  
  
“Don’t need you to mother hen me, Frank.”

  
  
Frank rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face didn’t waver. Once they settled in on eating lunch, the conversations rolled in. The Devil happened to be great at conversations, and for once, Frank was grateful that it was something casual between the two of them. No bloodshed. No taunting. Just talking.   
  
  
  
Then there were days where the hour hung low over them.  
  
Matt would be having those days, going off into the night alone as if thinking Frank wouldn’t follow him into hell. As if he could get away from him so easily. His sour mood and warning hisses wouldn't stop The Punisher from lurking behind.   
  
They both had their own demons.  
  
  
Frank would spend nights alone, making sure the scum that littered the streets stayed in their place, while all odds would go against him. It didn’t matter. He would trudge on back to his warehouse, fix himself up, and sleep until the afternoon. There were times when he finished early and would find himself walking in another direction, specifically towards Matt’s apartment. The excuse in his head would whisper that the other vigilante was nearby. The apartment was closer than the warehouse he took before, that’s all. But Frank really knew that wasn’t the case.  
  
  
“Frank…”  
  
  
A hum came through from the silence, Frank slipping into the bedroom and crawling right under the sheets. Matt turned around from his sleeping position to face him. He wanted to prod at him, ask what was wrong, but resisted the urge to check.  
Frank was glad for that, muttering out “All good, Matt. Not another word.”  
Matt got the message clear, a simple nod was enough for the two of them to sleep on it for now. Frank was sure that he wasn’t injured, he was just exhausted. Besides, they can always check in the mornings.  
  
  
And in those mornings came the broken tension. Where Matt would ask what happened, what he did, who did he _kill_. Some arguments would come through, but it turned out for the better at the end of it, especially when Frank had left some of them alive. It wasn’t like before, where it always ended in blood and bruises. It was the sense of protectiveness that was starting to blossom between the two of them.  
  
They were both glad on that change.  
  
  
  
  
Changes kept coming and going, both within their space and outside.  
Seasons became different, days went by, patrols organized a bit better than the last, and it’s how their routine began to go about. Frank was wondering at one point when Matt was going to break their secret over to Nelson and Karen.  
The lawyer finally did so one day when the two of them arrived for lunch at the apartment and Frank Castle was there, finding the measuring cups and helping Matt. He knew Nelson would’ve been in utter shock, probably beyond disbelief, while Karen would pass this off as something good. Something special.  
  
Of course Karen would be understanding, unlike Nelson, who would be having another aneurysm while Matt was calmly explaining to him why the two of them began to work out so well. Frank rolled his eyes and Karen couldn’t stop snickering.  
  
_“Is that why you’ve been acting so weird lately?”_  
  
  
So Red had _also_ acted differently around his buddies during his little decision making of flirting-with-The-Punisher.   
  
  
Good to know.  
  
  
Well, not for Nelson.  
  
Eh, wasn’t that big of a deal anyway, because the ex-marine _knew_ that the other lawyer will come around eventually. Especially when days later he would perk up and broaden his shoulders a bit when Frank came around. Soon, Foggy was getting used to his presence, and the smile that Frank always loved to see on Matt’s face came back again.  
  
  
Yeah, that’s what he thought.  
  
  
Score one for Castle.

* * *

  
  
  
  
Frank also didn’t count on having to yell over the recklessness Matt has proven countless of times. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he counted on it. It’s something from the past that never went away.  
  
The window to his warehouse opened, letting Daredevil slip in with some ease within the low lights.  
  
“Hey Frank…”  
  
“Red.”  
  
  
  
Something was off the second Daredevil set foot in the warehouse, wincing slightly whenever he turned around with that not-so-subtle limp he was having in his left leg. There were open gashes around his sides as well.  
Frank wasn’t getting fooled by Matt’s typical ' _I’m fine_ ' façade so easily.  
  
  
“What the hell happened?”  
  
  
“Nothing, just had to deal with some weapon smugglers,” Matt shrugged. He was breathing heavily by the time he leaned against the wall, trying to keep his head up, trying to hide his obvious bleeding state with his winning smile again.  
  
Frank wasn’t having any of it this time.  
  
  
“Stay there,” Frank ordered, getting up from his seat and walked over towards the vigilante. Said vigilante was still being stubborn, moving closer to him while keeping his hand against the wall for support. Some support the wall proved, as the limping leg finally made him buckle his knees. He would’ve keeled over if it hadn’t been for Frank quickly catching him.  
“Damn it, I told you to stay where you were!”  
  
“Sorry…” Matt muttered, pressing against Frank, letting himself get manhandled by the ex-marine. A simple nod was all Matt gave when Frank asked if he can remove a few pieces of fabric. From the looks of it, Matt didn’t seem to give a shit on what was happening just as long as he got to snuggle up at the crook of Frank’s neck.  
  
While the long sleeved shirt and mask was pulled off, Matt settled himself on the cot after Frank placed him there, persuading him to let go from clinging onto him the whole time. He tended to his injuries, stitching up the knife wounds while making sure his leg was propped up a bit to heal. After that was done, sheets were pulled over to cover him.  
  
  
Frank sighs to himself. “You need to find a new armored suit.”  
  
“Mmm…”  
  
“I’m serious, Red. Your old one wouldn’t let you get sliced up like this.”  
  
“Old one’s gone,” Matt muttered softly, his hand wandering around to settle on something other than the sheets. Frank resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but here he was, lowering his hand to let his idiot hold it. The gentleness of their interactions still amaze Frank even after the clarity that came beforehand. “Well, we gotta find you a new one then,” the ex-marine suggested, feeling a tug at his hand. “What?”  
  
There was that cheeky grin again. Even when hurt, Matt still wanted to use every opportunity for him to get Frank to catch his smile.  
“But then you won’t be playing nurse on me so often.”  
  
“ _Good_ ; I hate having to tend your wounds’n shit when you refuse to wear my vests.”  
  
“Aww come on, Frank. You know skulls don't look good on me."  
  
Piece of shit.  
  
  
Even after the distinction, Red still enjoyed the teasing. Frank swore internally, knowing that now that they’re both stuck with each other, this will be a regular thing. Not just every night, but every day too.  
  
He really allowed himself to get this far, huh. And he'll be damned if doesn't get Matt to wear a skull shirt at least once.  
  
“You worried about me?” Damn it, Red. Being battered and broken didn’t stop the Devil from making his voice turn sweet towards The Punisher.  
  
“No shit,” Frank grunted back.  
  
  
  
Of course he was worried.  
  
  
  
“Sometimes I feel like you do this shit on purpose.”  
  
Matt chuckled lightly. “I know other ways to get close to you; M’not a masochist like you."  
  
  
This time, Frank didn’t waver from rolling his eyes completely.  
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy our little fist fights as much as I did, counselor.”  
  
He’s still smiling, but it was contagious enough for Frank’s lips to twitch upwards as well. There wasn’t any counter argument there.  
  
  
God damn altar boy.  
  
  
Time went by with just the two of them chit-chatting with each other, teasing and throwing banter at one another, despite the clear sluggishness from Matt. They were always trying to get a rise out of each other, which still hasn’t changed from before. Soon, Frank realized he found himself lying next to Matt, making enough space on the cot while still holding his hand and constantly trying to add a sneering tone to his growl. It only earned him more tired giggles from the vigilante, who was now under his chin again, breathing in his scent. He was enjoying this closeness between them. Frank had to admit that he was also perfectly settled with not moving much.

  
When the rain came pouring through from the outside, Matt was already asleep, having to run out of whatever energy he had left over. The ex-marine was careful around the bandages, and the sudden protectiveness that surged out from inside broke through his skin. He pulled Matt just a little bit closer before falling asleep with his nose in his hair.  
  
  
The rain was soothing enough for the both of them anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Usually there wouldn’t be any given warnings when the hours go dark and Daredevil would decide to appear right behind The Punisher without a single hint of presence.  
  
Now that the mist was clear, Frank heard a quick whistle from nearby, the Devil in question appearing from behind, making note of his entrance while he packed up. Job’s done for the night. He turns his head slightly.  
  
“Thought you were investigating on the drug deals downtown.”  
  
  
“Yeah, I thought so too, but I managed to finish early with that,” Daredevil walked over to where Frank was at the roof. “What’re you up to?”  
  
Frank was disassembling the sniper rifle, already putting the pieces back into the case. “Was doing recon earlier, but that’s all set and done.”

A hum broke through, Daredevil keeping up in strides now that his leg was no longer stiff and didn’t prevent him from walking without a limp. He was trying to show off again, trying to prove that he was fine and could take on the world, but Frank knew it was all for him to relax about it healing properly. Red was back out on the streets again doing parkour like there was no tomorrow.  
  
“Found the man who made the old suit a couple days ago. Said he wouldn’t mind making another one for me.”  
  
  
Finally, some good news to hear. “Glad to hear you’re actually taking my advice,” Frank teased. Oh here we go again.  
  
“What? I know good advice when I hear it.”  
  
“So you saying the other times I offered weren’t good enough?”  
  
“Sorry, you’re not _that_ great of a pep talker.” There was that sarcastic tone in Red’s voice again, trying to pick at Frank, expecting him to snarl back.  
  
“You asshole,” Frank scoffed, yet there was that tone of endearment again. The fondness of it.  
  
  
He never thought of using it again, but here he was.  
  
  
  
While they led themselves down the building, Red allowed the conversation of what to have for dinner tomorrow. They stopped by at the warehouse for a few minutes just so that Frank can store the rifle back in its place.  
  
As they reached the edge of the street to make their grand escape, Daredevil tilted his head again, frowning slightly from whatever he was hearing. Frank wanted to know.  
  
  
“What is it?”  
  
  
“Don’t know; from the smell of their colognes and weapons, some mafia members are going around this area.”  
  
  
Shit, not now.  
  
He knew he should've brought a pistol just in case.  
  
  
  
“Alright, let’s get out of here.”  
  
“Sounds good to me. Last one there is cooking dinner tomorrow.”  
  
  
“Wait _what_?”  
  
  
  
Daredevil immediately went ahead and jumped over the fence from ahead of them, leaving Frank puzzled for a split second before reminding himself of the outlining danger from behind.  
  
Right.  
  
  
Frank jumped over, focusing on the dark blur from up ahead and listened for his footsteps. Damn it was Red _fast_. He knew this from before of course. Daredevil was a lean fighter who could pack a hard punch and was swifter than any other fighter he’s seen before. Frank did say he would’ve made one hell of a marine.  
Now here he was, practically chasing after the vigilante in some…race. They were _racing_ each other towards the apartment, but Frank saw it more like a game of tag. He didn’t want to beat Red in this race, he wanted to _catch_ him. The confusion from before was completely abandoned once the ex-marine began looking forward in winning this race. Just to rub it in on Red’s face when he reaches the apartment first.  
  
  
Damn it, he feels like a dumb school kid all over again.  
  
  
Once they reached the edge of the alleyway, both of them knew that a quick turn around the street is where the apartment would be.  
  
Frank pushed himself to pick up the pace and grabbed Matt by the shoulders. He immediately shoved him up against the wall, making sure no one was around to see him pinning the Devil in some dark alleyway. Even with those super senses Daredevil has, Frank still wanted to make sure.  
  
  
  
“I win, Red.”  
  
Matt was taken aback slightly from his position, mouth opened in surprise before it soon developed into a grin. “Thought we were supposed to be racing here, Frank.”  
  
“Yeah well, game’s changed. Caught you.” Oh their little game has _definitely_ changed alright.  
  
“Really?”  
  
  
Frank didn’t have time to register the obvious smugness in that tone before he soon found himself flipped around. His back hits the wall, earning a soft grunt and the sudden realization going through his mind. Matt inched himself closer, making sure he was close enough for Frank to _listen_ to him.  
  
_“Are you sure about that?”  
_  
  
Fuck, he was doing the low drawl he typically does whenever he spoke as Daredevil. Rough at the edges. Always a warning bark before it came with the stinging bite. It was hot against his skin and Frank could almost taste it. 

  
It was enough to break the wave of pressure.  
  
  
Frank pulls the vigilante into a kiss, quickly letting it dissolve into an array of tongue exploring and lip biting. Matt kept his hands on the ex-marine’s arms, making sure they stayed pinned against the wall while his mouth got busy. If Frank would’ve known they were going to have a make-out session after playing their little game of tag, he would’ve planned this _ages_ ago.  
A leg was pushed in between his thigh, making Frank fail at stifling out a loud moan. Now he was feeling that same cocky grin from a few minutes ago press into his neck. They were kissing and biting with all they got while making noises that were only made for them to hear.  
Frank dragged the vigilante closer to him while he tugged at his bottom lip slightly and his hand settled on his ass.

  
Ever since the kiss on the rooftop, this is what kept replaying in Frank’s head lately. Just him and those lips he’s been dying to kiss again and again. He was enjoying the taste of Red already, finally having time to truly explore while allowing himself to unravel in these moments. One thing Frank didn’t account for was that he _liked_ being pinned by Matt. Absolutely _lived_ for the way the other man was so hungry for Frank and Frank _only_. He was looking forward to the tranquil privacy of a bedroom with less clothes and definitely  _not_  at an empty corner behind a building.   
  
  
Eventually, they broke apart to catch their breaths, panting slightly as Matt pressed his forehead against Frank’s.  
  
“Fuck, Red…” Frank whispered, feeling slightly lightheaded. “This my reward for catching you?”  
  
Matt smiled, his grip at the other man softening. “No, I think the dinner I’ll be making tomorrow will be.”  
  
“Wow, I see how it is,” Frank drawled out, earning himself a laugh from the vigilante in the process. It made him feel warm all over inside.  
  
  
The Devil really knew how to get him.   
  
  
Frank knew he was already far gone the second he fell down this rabbit hole.

* * *

  
  
  
  
Waking up underneath a church usually wasn’t something Frank could account for.  
  
  
Pain pulsed through his body, aching more around his shoulder and waist. He noticed that someone was holding his hand, rubbing his knuckles softly with their thumb. After the blurs that fogged up the corner of his eyes faded away, his vision now made him realize where he was, along with noticing it was Matt sitting next to him.  
  
“…Red? What-”  
  
  
Before he could even continue, Frank’s body immediately shot more pain around his sides, forcing him to lay back down on the cot.  
  
“Easy, Frank. You were roughed up pretty badly earlier and I managed to get you out,” Matt explained softly, still holding his hand. The memories flooded back quickly, revealing their little stunt with crashing through another drug heist uninvited. Unfortunately, some of the guards there were ready for them. All Frank could remember was getting shoved around, shot at the shoulder (that explains the hissing pain from it) and then getting knocked out from a blunt object. Matt must’ve carried his ass out of there quickly, but instead of going to the apartment or one of the warehouses, he picked a church.  
Frank knew this place already, having Matt describe him the days he spent within the crypt with the help of a nun.  
  
  
“Oh good, he’s awake.”  
  
  
That must be said nun, walking away from the first aid kit with a glass of water in her hand. He took his time in being careful while the other two in the area went ahead to help him sit up and drink. Frank allowed his gaze to go over to see the black mask staring back at him with the red tinted eyes at the nightstand. Matt's hair was a mess from the previous encounter and he was still wearing the rest of the armor.  
  
The new suit has proven itself to be useful, maybe even better than the previous red one. Matt found the man who made the suit before a couple weeks back, helped him out again, and was back in the streets with horns again.  
  
Frank was extremely grateful that Matt finally took his suggestion and gotten an upgrade around the sides and limbs. Added more protection near the waist and hips while helping his punches and kicks deal with more damage. It was like the old suit, only it was mainly black with dark red hues around the gloves, boots, and holsters. He _still_ missed the red suit, but that Melvin Potter seemed to be into the idea of change as well.  
  
  
  
Throughout his healing, Frank came to know a lot of things.  
  
He knew that Matt wasn’t as banged up as he was; a few small bruises along the jaw, probably more decorating along the ribs, but doing better than Frank for sure. Again, the new suit giving enough protection to prevent him from earning any more open gashes.  
  
He realized there were others before Matt who had taken refuge in the exact same cot he was laying on under the same church before. At one point, Matt revealed the time he spent down here. During those days where the idiot pretended to be dead, mulling over wanting to kill Fisk (Frank was glad he never went through with it).  _That_ was a fun conversation at one point.  
  
  
He found out that the nun helping him was Matt’s mother.  
  
  
  
More relationships to recognize, more to understand and unravel with all the secrets laid out on the table. Frank didn’t make it as awkward as he feared he would after the revelation. Matt would’ve definitely caught onto it and made jabs at him. However, he proved himself to be a better patient than Matt was to Sister Maggie.  
  
“At least this one wouldn’t complain,” Maggie had muttered at one point while she redressed the bandages over Frank’s shoulder.  
  
“I heard that," came an echo from across.   
  
“ _Good_.”  
  
  
Frank snickered slightly, earning a quick glare from the vigilante.  
  
  
Yeah, the nun was alright.

 

Frank sees her again a couple of times, mostly when they were off in the dark and she would scold at them for lurking around the church for too long. They can’t help it when some bastards decide to go around populated areas to start business in the corner. Each time it was a joy, mostly because it was damn entertaining to watch Matt and Sister Maggie spew out light banter with each other while she helped the two of them. Like mother like son.  
  
Later on, Maggie would find out who Frank truly was, discarding his name as Pete and looking through the hidden identity. Frank was worried of course, but by the end of the day, it seems like she only cared about Matt’s happiness.  
  
  
See that’s what shook Frank to the core.  
  
  
He made Matt _happy_.

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
Despite their broken boundaries, their routine would always receive the unplanned or the unexpected.  
  
  
As much as they had their gentle moments, it didn’t stop the asshole for pulling him in crazed situations and making them seem as if they were all a game. That will never stop, huh. Even when the hour strikes for a time of relaxation, their energy would seep out and they would tackle each other for another round of their odd tag. And then there are times that they would corner each other, shedding their clothes and dragged themselves to the bedroom no matter who the winner was.   
  
Sparring was a downtime for the two of them, which eventually led to Matt sneaking Frank into Fogwell’s gym to rough him up there. Watching the other man pack a punch was always very enjoyable for Frank. Going up against him was even better.   
But then the giggling would erupt and Matt would turn it into a game all over again and damn it, Frank was completely gone. Joining him, tussling around like it didn’t matter anymore and flirting all over again. It made Frank want the bastard even more.   
Oh well, Frank was stuck in this anyway since the Devil managed to claim him and his soul. He knew he was gone the second he decided to play along and here he was refusing to let go.   
  
And apparently it had been obvious from the start.  
  
  
“Is that why you’ve been acting so…out of it, from the other times I've seen you?”  
  
  
Curtis had  _also_  noticed the change before the damn mist had even began to fog up the boundary. Seems Daredevil and The Punisher both have some very attentive friends.   
  
The teasing in Curtis’ tone didn’t help either, so Frank kept drinking his coffee without a word.  
  
  
Curt was too smart for his own good.  
  
  
  
  
  
When darkness choked at Frank in the worst of times, it hurts.   
  
Made him lost and completely empty himself.   
  
  
Those moments where it would crawl out of its hole to rear its ugly head and weigh everything down. He knows it very well. He’s been there before.  
  
Frank wasn’t one to forget; more often did he find himself stuck in the loop of when and why, going to Curtis’ sessions and speaking to him in private for some friendly advice or going to Maria and the kids’ graves for a time of remembrance. Each time, he learned something new or something he had already known from the start. Curtis was always the one with the best advice, and Maria…she was smart. Cunning. Logical.  
  
She always knew what to do, what to say.  
  
  
He still missed them, thinking about them from time to time even when Matt was right there with him. Frank would think about the past, the present, and even the future. An after wasn’t something he counted on. It cluttered his mind, making him want to focus on the negative. A hand would slip through his and he would smooth over the scarred knuckles, a reminder that he was in the present, breaking through the noise. 

  
They anchored each other, and that was something Frank was grateful for. He didn’t feel alone for once. Didn’t feel like the whole world was against him.  
  
  
Whispers would soothe him from that familiar emptiness as they practically echoed out within the apartment, reminding him of what he has now. _That's right_ , his mind would agree. Matt wouldn't run away, and he sure as hell can take on anything life throws at him.   
Frank was the one to drag Matt down and taste him, bringing them close together when his mind was too much. Matt would pin the ex-marine against the mattress, running his hands all over him once the shirt was discarded.  
  
  
It was just them.  
  
  
Frank lived for this.   
  
  
He lived for the way Matt hovers over him, breathing him in at first before kissing along his neck, to his jawline, then to his mouth. The noises they were making was already enough to help silence the demons that crept at Frank's mind. However, Frank was chosen for avaricious tendencies, ripping off other layers and bucking against the other man. Lips grazed themselves along his jaw again, breaking off from the kiss until hot air hits his ear.   
  
_"Tell me what you want, Frank."_

   
How the Devil can sweetened his voice in a pitch that was so promising, Frank would've never guessed it was possible back then. Now? Now he knows it's for _him_. That cadence that breaks through the cacophony made from broken hours of paranoia and misery was for Frank to absorb. To appreciate.  
  
  
To listen to no matter how many times.   
  
  
  
"You already know," Frank huffs out, pressing more skin against the rest, feeling a hand trail from down below for a tease. "You know _exactly_ what I want, Matt."  
  
  
A soft hum echoed and soon they were completely intertwined with each other. The cabinet pulled, a cap popped open, quickened paces of wet fingers inching through Frank while he simply kept moaning into the Devil's shoulder.   
Teeth came into play right on his clavicle, pinching through to add more into the pleasure. Rolling of hips came along in rapid thrusts and Frank could only hold on, taking in their air, taking in the moans that came from Matt, taking in _everything_.   
  
Soon, it became a flurry of biting, groping, and kissing to busy himself while the mattress creaks underneath. Nails clawing themselves downward to stripe the Devil's back as the pace quickened. Frank felt teeth again, this time with a teasing tongue and soothing whispers all against his neck.  
  
They were both marked.   
  
  
Fingers brushed his scalp, running through hair and holding him closer. Frank can smell the sweat while his mouth gapes open and he strangles out a gasp when another hand wrapped around him in a fist. The buildup pulses through the ex-marine's body. He watches Matt lower his head slightly, panting while his hair flopped in a mess and the sweat glistened his shoulders.   
  
_"Come here..."_ Frank growls, commanding the Devil to press himself against the other again and unravel them completely in a quandary of both forces matching the pace. Eventually it breaks through, allowing waves of release to wash over the two of them.   
Frank peaks with a groan, feeling dizzy while Matt shudders against him. That was it. It was enough.   
  
  
They cleaned themselves off after catching their breaths, and with a quick shower they were back under the sheets. Frank's mind was in muted satisfaction, blissfully tired as he turned to his side to move closer.   
  
  
  
"Come here." He repeats again, this time it was more of a purr.   
  
  
  
Matt heard him loud and clear, with eyelids heavy and hands practicing their gentleness again when they wrapped themselves around the other man.  
  
  
"You alright?"   
  
That saccharine voice became a facet to the clarity.  
  
  
A steady rumble from Frank's throat made Matt sure that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Head underneath the Devil's chin while the night gave them their own hour. He can already hear that perfect smile.   
  
  
  
"Yeah, all good, Red."   
  
  
  
This is what mattered now.

 


End file.
